


Oh, Daddy!

by Hello_Spikey



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Daddy Issues, Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-09
Updated: 2009-03-09
Packaged: 2019-06-15 13:07:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15413592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hello_Spikey/pseuds/Hello_Spikey
Summary: Here is some Wesley/Angelus.  AtS season four - you know, when Angelus was stalking around taking his sweet time about finishing off The Beast.





	Oh, Daddy!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snogged](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snogged/gifts).



> This is for **snogged** who asked me to write on "Daddy themes".
> 
> Well, when I think "Daddy", I think Angelus.
> 
> And when I think "Daddy issues", I think of Wes.
> 
> Warnings: Questionable con, daddy issues galore.

The words were spoken softly, almost fondly, and just behind him, “Hello, Wesley.”

Which of course meant there was no time to use the crossbow he had cocked and ready. He slowly straightened out of his crouch while the crossbow was lifted from his arm.

“Tsk, tsk. You could put someone’s eye out with that.”

“Hello, Angelus,” Wesley said, not turning around. He heard the creak and slap of the crossbow being turned over and disarmed.

“That’s all I get? ‘Hello, Angelus’?” The vampire stepped around him, arms out wide in mock dismay.

Wesley folded his arms. “I know you well enough not to want to make this interesting.”

“Interesting.” Angelus tossed the cross-bow over his shoulder. Wesley couldn’t help a wince as the prod hit concrete with a baleful screech. “Now, Wes, old son, what could make toying with _you_ interesting?”

Wesley tilted his head back. “My mistake. I’ll be on my way, then.”

Angelus moved quicker than an eye blink, just a rustle of his fine silk shirt alerting Wesley before a large hand descended on his shoulder. “What’s the rush, Wes? No time to chat with your old buddy, former boss, the guy whose son you stole?”

“Well, I am rather busy at the moment. Don’t you have a beast you should be tracking?”

Angelus waved a hand. “It’s on the to do list. No, I was thinking,” he wrapped his arm fully around Wesley’s shoulders. “I was thinking you and I could have some bonding time. You do owe me. All that lost time with Connor… makes a demon cry.”

After a moment’s consideration, Wesley stepped out of the half-embrace. “I would suggest then that you make up lost time with your son and leave me to my business.”

Angelus pouted. A very Angel-like expression, save for the malice in his eyes. “Connor’s no fun.” He stepped close to Wesley, right into his personal space. “He thinks he can take me. I much prefer you, Wesley. You…” he ran a finger along one stubbly cheek, “you know better.”

“Well, thank you, but I already have a disapproving father.”

Angelus’ features brightened, sparked with interest. That was bad.

“Oh, you think I want you to take Connor’s place? Want to be my boy, Wes?” Angelus sidled up to Wes, as though to embrace him, arms wrapping around him.

Wesley couldn’t back away fast enough. (Quite literally, Angelus matched his moves even as he turned to run.) He ended up against a wall, not quite sure how he got there, with Angelus caging him in with his arms.

“What’s the matter, Wes? I think you could use some good parenting.” Angelus pressed against him, flexing his legs to rub his erection up and down against the man. “I know I’m liking the idea.”

It was only surprise that let Wes get away with kneeing the vampire in the groin and pushing him away. Wesley knew that. He also knew his odds of getting away were not high, so instead of high-tailing it, he made a show of dusting himself off. “Thank you, but no.”

Angelus held his crotch, and for a moment his face was pure rage. Then he laughed. He shook his leg and laughed it off. “You really do want a spanking, don’t you?”

“Whatever you do, I’m not going to entertain you, Angelus. You’ll just have to kill me and be done with it.”

Angelus bit his lower lip and looked heavenward. “You act like you have some kind of control over whether I’m entertained or not.” And again, oh so quickly, he was up against Wesley, breathing in his ear. “That’s funny. And cute.”

Wesley’s denim jacket tore with shocking ease under Angelus’ fingers, taking the shirt underneath with it and making a sound so loud and sudden he had to look down to be sure his skin had been left intact. A moment later he felt the chill of the night air on his half-exposed flesh.

He regarded Angelus with steady visage. “I’ll expect you to pay for that.”

A cool hand ran over his exposed flesh, aiding it in stiffening into goose-flesh. Angelus hissed in approval. “So very manly, Wes. You keep this hidden too much. You ought to show it off.”

Wesley closed his eyes and held himself stiff and still, not responding to the touch. That’s what the monster would want.

Though he couldn’t stop from shivering as the remnants of his shirt and jacket were shucked off his shoulder and he was pressed, bare from the waist up, against a chill brick wall, rough with grit and crumbling mortar.

“Now this feels nice.” Angelus’ hands roamed all over Wesley’s torso while his lips mapped the path of his jugular, opening and closing, leaving small wet patches of cool breath.

Wesley shuddered, thinking about corpses, about this corpse, moist with the pretense of life.

“Maybe I should just turn you, Wes.” The vampire’s lips hovered over his neck, hands tightening against his sides. “Mmm… feel that pulse jump. All that blood pounding against the surface, wanting out. Oh, yeah. I’d be a real gooood daddy for you, Wes. Teach you all the ropes.”

“Go ahead,” Wes ground out. “I’ll be sure to return the favor by ripping your head off.”

The gell-stiff spikes of Angel’s hair prickled against Wesley’s cheek as he chuckled. “You probably would.”

With a stomach-churning moment of airlessness, Wesley found himself flipped, onto Angelus’ lap. He struggled – of course he did, but an iron-strong arm held his hips, another across his shoulders. “And wasn’t that bad of you, Wes? Threatening Daddy like that?”

“Bugger off, you’re not my father.” Wesley snarled, twisting to try and face Angelus. “He’s more evil than you are.”

Angelus laughed. “Oh I just _knew_ you had issues. What was it, Wes? Not enough attention?” He ran his hand over Wesley’s ass in a parody of affection. “Or too much?”

Wesley froze, realizing he was giving too much material to the evil fiend, and Angelus laughed more heartily, his hand soothing back and forth on Wesley’s lower back. “Oh, Wes. You’re too easy.”

“Bastard.”

“Oh, no. I was the legitimate heir to the family fortune. Expected to carry on the old man’s business and all that. Oh, hey. Maybe that’s your problem, Wes. Just think if I’d let my father choose my career path? If I’d become just what he wanted me to be?” Angelus leaned low, chuckling conspiratorially. “I think I’d have turned into some kind of deviant.”

And with that, he ripped Wesley’s pants from him. Sudden, unbearable pressure before the fabric gave caused black flowers to bloom over Wesley’s vision. He cursed and kicked, despite his promise not to react.

“There, there, Wes! Feel familiar, yet?” His large hand slipped over one cheek, squeezing proprietarily.

“Being spanked as a grown man? Hardly.”

“Oh, but you aren’t a grown man, Wes. Not right now. No, you’re just a little boy, and it isn’t fair, is it? That father is so cross.”

Wesley snorted, ignoring the intimate feel of Angel’s large, slightly calloused hands feeling out the contours of his bare ass.

“Doubting me, Wesley? But we both know there’s a small boy in there. And I’m betting he remembers what this feels like.”

Angelus brought his hand down, hard but not inhumanly so, a sudden, sharp smack that unbidden brought tears to the edges of Wesley’s eyes. Ridiculous! That he should so automatically feel ashamed. He grabbed handfuls of Angelus’ trousers – fine wool nicely tailored, it pulled well enough and helped ground him. “To hell with you and your mind games, Angelus. You won’t get in my mind with such… transparent tricks.”

“Oh, Wes, but the classics are classic for a reason!” He pinched a cheek and then tapped it, admiring the spring of flesh. “You can’t tell me old Papa Pryce didn’t enjoy a good disciplinary thrashing now and then!” Another hard smack. “Probably the only physical contact he allowed.” Smack!

“Oh. I had a distant father. In Britain. Brilliant deduction.”

“Well, you did go into the family business.” Smack. “Watchers.” Smack. “Voyeurs. Controllers of powerful little girls. Is pedophilia required, or just a good idea?” Smack!

“As much as it pains me,” Wesley paused, catching his breath as another, hard smack landed. “…to say it; my father was a good man.”

“Oh I bet he was. They’re always good men.” Smack! “The disapproving ones.” Smack! “Did he make you feel helpless? You could never be good enough, could you, Wes? Everything you achieved, every success, was dismissed. Barely acknowledged. Oh, but every miss-step, he saw those, didn’t he?”

Wesley had had about enough – and his bum was throbbing. He squirmed, trying to get off the monster’s lap, but Angelus just held him closer, leaning down, pressing his lips to the back of his ear. “Isn’t that right, Wes? You weren’t man enough. You weren’t smart enough. You weren’t good enough for daddy.”

“You aren’t good enough,” Wesley hissed, struggling to get free from the arms and legs wrapped around him, the vampire was strong and binding, like an anaconda, squeezing him just enough to crush his ribs when he inhaled deeply. “Now unhand me or hurry up and get on with… this… you undead… pervert!”

“Men! They never want to indulge in foreplay.” Angelus nuzzled the side of Wesley’s face, making a wet, sloppy kiss on his cheek.

Wesley found a momentary reprieve in the embrace, able to arch his chest out and gasp a full breath of air at the expense of being firmly groped. “It isn’t foreplay, you sadistic bastard, when you attempt to disconcert someone before raping them.”

“Rape? Who said anything about rape?” Angelus gasped in mock dismay. He turned Wes over, and with some struggle, grunting, and two well-landed fists, forced Wesley to straddle his lap, facing him while he hugged the watcher’s arms down at his sides. “Really, Wes,” he looked up with amusement barely hidden, “That wounds me. Don’t you care for me anymore?”

“You aren’t Angel. You can never be Angel. You’re just a beast that wears his face.”

“Oh, Wes. Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better.” Angelus fluttered his eyelashes and started, once again, to slowly and carefully make love to Wesley’s exposed throat. Kissing, nibbling, sucking, all with a tender touch and little gasps of delight, very much like a lover.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to do this. You’re a handsome man, Wesley. And you used to be so eager to please. Oh the times I thought about bending you right over my desk…”

“Your loss.”

“Oh don’t hurt me, baby. You know that’s not nice.”

Wesley chose not to dignify that with a response, though it was getting harder to ignore the gentle action on his shoulders and neck, his skin pricking up in gooseflesh all over as Angelus caressed his back and kneaded his sore buttocks.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Wes. No. Well, maybe a little. But this… I want it to be mutual. I want you to give yourself to me.”

Wesley snorted, loudly.

“Tsk. Don’t be that way. I know you, Wes. I know you’ve dreamed of this.” And his hand slipped down, traced Wesley’s cleft with gentle fingers. Wesley took in a sharp breath and swore.

“Oh, feel that?” Angelus reached under, probing, squeezing. “I feel that.”

Wesley tried to push any arousal he felt down and away, concentrating on the loathsome lack of heartbeat, the evil of this being… and damn if that wasn’t turning him on. Oh, father was so right about him in some ways.

As if reading his mind, Angelus whispered, “What a dirty boy you turned out to be. Oh, not in the ways he thought, but deep inside, you know you exceeded his every fear of perversion. Didn’t you, Wes? And the more you try to fight it, the more it takes you over.”

Wesley swallowed against a hard, dry lump in his throat. “I’m in the grip of a notorious vampire. One I have studied. Do not think this is any of my doing. None of it is.”

“So deft at shifting blame. Daddy would be proud.” Angelus’ hand closed on Wesley’s cock, now half-hard, to his shame, and rising to the grip eagerly. “How’s that moral high ground feel, Wes? Nice and black and white?” He stroked leisurely, fingers working reverently, caressing base to tip, twisting and tweaking, wringing sensation from every inch and rolling the head between his thumb and forefinger, working the foreskin back gently, exploring, admiring.

No, Wesley should assuredly not be held accountable for his actions. He found his hands gripping Angelus’ shoulders and he thrust into the tightening fist. He grunted into Angelus’ face, jaw tightening, head tilting back, he thrust harder, as though he could punish the caressing fist.

Something shifted in the vampire’s expression, too, some subtle understanding as he milked Wesley with one hand and with the other he cupped Wesley’s hip, urging him back and forth. Bare skin rubbed over silk and wool, which rubbed over taut thighs thick with muscle and a hard column of flesh, rampant and insistent, and yet Angelus seemed content to let his own cock stand unattended, brushed only by the back of his hand with each forward thrust Wesley made.

“Is this what you wanted? Perversion?”

“Yes, Wes.” Angelus breathed deeply, as though he could taste the air around them. “Oh, that’s it, baby. Fuck daddy’s hand.”

Wesley’s steady rhythm faltered. His lip curled. “You’re si…”

The breath was knocked out of him before he could complete the word. Angelus had lunged forward and suddenly they were standing, Wes once again pinned against the grimy brick wall. He gasped for air, his hands sliding off of Angelus’ shoulders, feeling the frightful power of his arms flexing under the thin silk tissue of his shirt.

“Uh-uh, Wesley. That wasn’t very nice.” And Angelus’ hand traveled down his torso, caressing in a way that _was_ very nice, perhaps as an example. Wesley didn’t know, he was starting to feel overloaded on sensation, the sheer wrongness of the situation, and the inescapable conclusion that yes, he was going to be fucked by Angelus.

And no, he wasn’t terribly upset about that. Which, in calmer moments, would disturb him, but if the evil bastard was going to do it, wasn’t it better to just let go? He sank into Angelus’ embrace, startled to find the monster so tender.

If Angelus was surprised when Wesley’s mouth opened under his, it didn’t stall his kiss.

Strength, power, control: it was all there in his kiss, deep and possessive and awakening all sorts of filthy thoughts deep in Wesley’s soul. Not the least of which was: could he write the council about this experience, and what would father say, really?

He didn’t even notice wrapping his legs around Angelus, or care when those big hands cupped his buttocks and lifted.

Then a finger jabbed very hard into him, pain like cold water splashed through him. “Daddy, no!”

Wesley closed his eyes, hot waves of shame chasing the cold pain as Angelus laughed in delight at his unconscious reaction. “Oh, you do have issues, Wes. Shhh. Let ‘Daddy’ make it better.”

Despite knowing it was futile, and only increased the evidence of his own shame, Wesley struggled. Angelus laughed at each attempt, obviously enjoying every moment of fighting to keep his hold on Wesley. He pressed him, groin to groin, thrusting just slightly. “You’re still hard, Wes. Don’t lie to me with your actions. We both know better.”

Angelus raised his hand and wrapped his lips around his thick forefinger, slurping noisily and groaning. “You taste so good. Male and filthy.”

The finger returned to Wesley’s ass, now slightly lubricated (very slightly) but the spit slicked against flesh still sore and wanting to clench.

Wesley clenched his jaw, instead, knowing that fighting would only make it hurt worse, he tried to bear down through it. Surely every drop of blood in his body was flooding to the surface of his face.

The face nuzzling his was thankfully cool in comparison.

“It’s okay, Wes. You and I both know you’re not a pansy, a pillow-biter. Oh, well, maybe you are that, but you’re more a man than your father ever hoped to make you. Was he always talking about making a man of you? I bet he was. Men like that don’t understand, do they, what makes a real man? Hmmm?”

“Shut up and get on with it. I’ll be staking you afterward.”

Angelus laughed again, a deep, throaty chuckle that vibrated all behind his chest. “Yes, sir!” He pressed his finger in all the way to the last knuckle and wriggled it, snickering into Wesley’s throat. It felt strange, not unpleasant, that finger wriggling, moving his insides playfully. And then he thrust in and out, gently twice and then hard. The burn and push had Wesley gritting his teeth again, hanging on to dear life to his resolve not to betray his enjoyment. But it was so good, so wrong and good and just that edge of pain like a grace note to the pleasure.

And he knew he wanted to be fucked, even if he was going to die shortly after. Maybe because he was going to die shortly after. What did he have to live for, anyway? A failure at saving the world. A betrayer of his truest friend’s trust. A friend who he always wanted to be more and now was twisted and dark and, really, why the fuck not?

Wesley leaned against the wall, felt the brick grinding into the short hairs at his nape as he lifted his hips to Angelus.

And then he was being filled, and oh god it was too much! Too large! One moment he felt like he’d gladly take anything, the next he was scrambling against the wall, trying to get away from the steady, thick pain that was tearing him apart. But hands held him down, pushed him down, Lips nipped at his ear, urging, “Go on, Wes. Scream. I know you want to. I want to hear it. Scream for me.”

Wesley breathed hard through his nose, his throat clenched tight as a fist. He glared fiercely, letting Angelus know screaming was the last thing he would do. Not for him. Not for anyone.

And then the insistent hands turned gentle, and Angelus was kissing him again, rubbing up and down his flanks, gentling him, murmuring soft praise from killer’s lips.

“Easy. God, so tight. So hot. That’s it. That’s it, Wes. Just relax. Oh god, baby, you’re perfect.”

The first pull out stings, the first thrust re-awakens all the pain, but the second is less, and the third even less painful, as pleasure builds, and for a delicious moment the pleasure and pain are the same thing, consuming and violent, devouring his over-charged nerves. Wesley bites Angelus on the neck, teeth digging in deep and hard into corded throat, such as he would never dare with a living partner. Perhaps. Angelus hisses and groans, pleased with the additional touch of pain. He started to thrust more urgently, and Wesley moves with him, one hand back now on the wall, pushing away from it. There is no concern for gravity, for the precariousness of his perch, only the all-consuming desire for more, more motion, more of THAT please god now now now!

The filthy words stopped; there was no breath for praise when fueling that incessant motion was all-important. For the first time, oddly, Wesley found his eyes locked on the vampire’s, their mouths open, breathing together, bathing in the moisture of each other’s mouths, staring at each other, and unbidden the thought came that souls were ephemeral, unimportant things when it came to sex.

And their mouths came together, tongues and teeth and lips clashing and melding, as something became even more important than breath. Airlessness grew like panic in Wesley’s chest, but he didn’t pull away, he plunged into it, into the heady sensation, all his life force pushed, thrust, crushed into it, because there was nothing after this.

Wesley felt himself about to explode, about to fall over the edge of the abyss and never look back, it began in his heels and crawled down from the crown of his head and rushed into his center. Angelus ripped his lips away, gasped, “Fuck! Yeah!” And drove harder into him, so hard bones must have cracked.

Wesley’s vision greyed, tunneled – maybe it was just the lack of oxygen. Getting it back made air seem like a drug, and he drew great gobs of it. He hit his head against the wall but didn’t feel the pain. His body was collapsing into a single point. “Daddy!” he gasped, and was spilling, spilling and spilling like a great reservoir, his hips pumping to push into the air, to plaster the ceiling if he could.

Angelus shook, shuddered, and pumped into him three, four more times, then was collapsing himself, sweat-soaked forehead pressing against Wesley’s, they slowed and breathed and gasped together, cooling down, awakening to sudden, surprising revelations, like “Dear me, my left hip is about dislocated” and “Heavens, is that a rough brick wall rubbing against my bare skin?”

Out loud, Wesley sighed, “Bloody fucking hell.”

Angelus’ back rose and fell, a little chuckle. “Daddy?” He turned his head up, looking boyishly amused. “You actually said ‘daddy’. Fuck, Wes!”

“You started the ‘daddy’ business, you old pervert.”

Wesley slid – painfully! – a foot down the wall, his foot alighting gingerly on the cold concrete and his hips popping as Angelus let his legs slide away from him. Angelus’ cock held between them for a while, Wesley’s legs holding it as though reluctant to let go.

Wesley winced as his weight finally rested on his own legs and rolled his head to the side, exposing the long side of his throat. “Now do it. You bastard.”

“With pleasure!”

Cold! Wet! Sharp! Pain! Fangs slipped easily into his flesh, seizing the muscle and causing twinges up and down his veins. This was it, this was death. Wesley swallowed, or tried to, and then more forcefully, ripping against the intruding teeth but grounding himself. “Forgive me, father,” he said, closing his eyes and preparing to die.

His tailbone impacted the ground and he jerked in shock.

Above him, Angelus wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Thanks for the taste, Wes. But it’s much more satisfying to me to let you live with this. I want you to remember tonight for a long, long time. Think about it when you kiss your girlfriends.” His mouth lifted on one side, that familiar, chilling smirk. “Or on father’s day.”

He zipped his fly and buckled his belt. Then frowned for a moment down at his cum-soaked shirt. Then shrugged. “See ya, Wes. That really cleared the head. Now I’ve got a beast to kill.”

It was a long time before Wesley could get to his feet, gather some scraps of his destroyed clothing, and limp to safety.

And sometimes, even in the midst of apocalypse, he would catch Angel staring at him, and quickly look away, and feel a flush of shame like it was projected from one man to the other, a silent tether to bind them forever.

Angelus chose the perfect punishment for them both.


End file.
